Inferno
by Banter14
Summary: Templar-centric story set in the modern day (2010-12). Written to flesh out the continuing progression of the Assassin-Templar war in the modern setting and to plausibly develop the Modern Templars as characters. Can be seen as a tie in to AC1 with an OC protagonist.
1. Inferno

**Disclaimer: I don't own Assassin's Creed**

 **AN: This is an idea that's jogging around in my head in some form or another since I saw the multiplayer cut scenes in Revelations for the first time. We scarcely get much insight into the Assassin-Templar war in the modern day outside of comics, which I have not read, even less so from the perspectives of the Templars outside of Otso Berg. So I wrote this with the ultimate goal of fleshing out some of these characters as well to provide plausible background to AC1 and the modern day as a whole.**

 **Please be warned that this features a heavily fictionalised version of a event in recent history.**

* * *

December 2010

Alex let out an involuntary shiver as he tested his hidden blades. Who knew North Africa could be so cold, even in winter? It was on the Mediterranean coast for heaven sakes. The blade worked smoothly, as it always had. It was made of an experimental material which would not enter the public domain for at least another few years, light yet with strength comparable to titanium. Far superior to the iron the Assassins had to scrounge from their enclaves in the shadows.

"Delta-6, I'm in position. Waiting for your orders?" the voice in the com link broke him from his thoughts. "Are you even listening? Don't tell me the cold has already frozen your brain," he could all but see Callum struggling not to laugh. He and his step-brother hadn't always had the easiest of relationships but there was truly no one he trusted more than Callum.

"Don't worry, I'll still be working well enough to bail you out when shit hits the fan." Alex rolled his eyes.

"I'm the older one, I bail you out." Callum retorted.

"What about New Year's Eve 2009, when you drank so much that you tried to go through the cat flap..." Alex's tale was cut off by a quick retort. "That does not count."

Whatever reply Alex had was interrupted by the sound of a flare being shot into the air. It illuminated the sky for a brief moment, like bonfire night, and might be considered beautiful if it were not the signal to start a blood soaked revolution.

"What was that?" Callum hissed. "The protest isn't due for another hour."

"Shit happens bro," Alex replied. "Weapons tight, our mission is crowd control. This is already a firestorm, the last thing we need is a civil war breaking out."

"Roger that. I'll take the ground and you the rooftops. Good hunting."

* * *

Alex looked far and wide across the many buildings, bunched together like squares on a chessboard. Taking a deep breath, he fought back the nerves, the adrenaline and focused as best he could. The colours of the world melded together into an aura, like moonlight on the ocean. He could see sounds and hear shapes as if using every sense at once. Doors, walls and all other potential hiding places became as transparent as glass, filling Alex's vision with glowing red shapes.

"Assassins." he could not help but sneer the word. Abstergo had tracked the Apple to Tunisia soon after Mohamed Bouazizi had self-immolated so it was no surprise but Alex could not help but feel bile in his throat at the physical sight of Assassins. The last time the Assassins had meddled so heavily was Russia in 1917, a pitiful failure with severely damaging consequences in hindsight. Without a doubt, the Apple was the priority but the ensuring this revolution panned out without civil war could only be a positive outcome. Besides it wasn't like the Order had any love lost for Ben Ali.

He had a vague recollection of the first man's expression as he looked at his own blood dripping from Alex's hidden blade, shock and horror. Perhaps he died thinking, Alex was an assassin, a turncoat. Truth be told, he did look the part complete with the hood. Then again, any 6 foot man with a hooded jacket could look menacing in the right circumstances. He scanned the body with his Eagle Vision, checking for bobby traps. Sigma Team had reported cases of Assassins rigging their equipment with explosives as a weapon of last resort, a tactic which had cost the lives of more than a few good men. Fortunately, this time nothing gave off a dangerous glow. He quickly set about gathering anything that was compromising: smoke bombs, a necklace with the Assassin symbol and the one hidden blade. It wasn't surprising, in many cases their enemies hadn't the resources to fully equip their operatives anymore.

All the while, the numbers and noise the protesters were making was increasing, disturbing what little tranquillity there was left. An almost crazed lumping together of languages, it was nigh on impossible to distinguish exactly what was said. French, Derja, Literary Arabic and some seemingly alien tongues, perhaps a Berber language? Alex looked across the crowd: portraits of Bouazizi, the man would no doubt become a martyr if he died of his injuries, was that an effigy of Ben-Ali destined to be torched? He looked further, seeing the local police in terror. Wild hand gestures, shouting and what presumably were frantic pleas for support on the radio. He spotted Callum, a blue aura in the crowd, evidently struggling to decide between the necessities of social stealth and de-escalating an explosive situation.

Callum really has his work cut- He tensed, allowing the thought to peter out. Someone was following him.

CRUNCH! He whipped around just in time to see a hooded figure smash into his chest, sucking the breath out of his lungs. In desperation, Alex kicked out at the man's chest, hoping that adrenaline would provide the force required at least buy him a few seconds. The Assassin was driven back a few feet, allowing Alex to roll out of his path, creating some desperately needed space between him and his opponent. It seemed that one of his targets had decided to be proactive, not content with being hunted from the shadows, and try to turn the tables.

Taking a few exhaling breaths, Alex assumed a defensive stance. He noticed his adversary also become wary, to the outside world two of them must have resembled wolves circling each other. He could not afford this, to waste time on a direct confrontation.

"I'm impressed Assassin. At least you have a spine, unlike your brother back there." Though the man's expression was hidden by a hood, Alex could sense his taunting had a effect. The Assassin's body stiffened slightly and it seemed that the air went still. This was an advantageous albeit precarious situation. Rage can unbalance an opponent but could also inspire an increased, primal ferocity. Still though, he had to try and end this quickly.

"I've killed many like him. You see, people show themselves at death's door. Everything, like a collage. Assassins, women, children. In a way, I know your brothers better than you ever will. You want to know how many were cowards?" Alex struggled to keep the bile from rising up his throat, crushing the gnawing of his conscience ruthlessly. _This is war. There can be no grandstanding, no virtue._

Despite this, his words had served their purpose. The Assassin charged wildly, the moonlight glinting of his hidden blade, predictably worn on his left hand out of tradition. Alex caught the man's hand and struggle ensued. To his credit, the muppet was stronger than he looked. His opponent's blade pushed to one side, there was a satisfying click as he flicked his left wrist and plunged the activated blade upwards into the Assassin's jawline. An expression of shock was frozen, eternally painted, on the man's face as his body turned limp and still. For Alex the monotonous routine was repeated, removing anything related to the Assassins and Templars from the man's body and making him look like a civilian caught in the crossfire.

Out of the blue, the streets below exploded with yet more noise. _Fucking great_. What he saw made only frustrated and dazzled him. Literally. Another flare, seemingly from within the crowd. _No wait, another one?!_ He followed a tinge of red for but a moment, observing it fade to the monotonous grey of an inanimate object. Standing over the corpse was the familiar blue glow of Callum. He had been just a second too late but there was no time to be wasted on regret. Turning his gaze to the second flare, he narrowed his eyes. The perpetrator, a woman this time, on a corresponding rooftop observing the consequences of her dirty work.

He had no intention of risking another direct confrontation so soon. One bullet to the chest, one to the head. The Assassin collapsed like a puppet without strings, dead before she hit the ground. The background noise of the protest, or was it a riot now, concealed the muffled sound. Observing warily, he checked for sudden movements. Nothing. There was no response from her brethren. _Good._

He leapt across effortlessly to the rooftop that the Assassin has been on, free-running with a cat like grace. Despite the general situation being a complete shitshow, he felt a sense of fulfilment as he navigated the landscape of urban structures with a fluid ease of movement. It was exhilarating and he was genuinely thankful for the many hours of strictly regulated training sessions in the Animus, ensuring that at the very least he had the skills to survive in the seemingly eternal war between Templars and Assassins. Climbing, fighting and even languages. Though with deeper thought, it could be argued that these abilities were, in a way, in his blood. For one, his Eagle Vision had manifested naturally. It had come as a shock to his family, and everyone else for that matter. Even Callum's own abilities had to be, in large part, brought out by the Animus despite his Templar descent.

Putting those thoughts to one side, he went through the same motions with the body of his latest victim. Hidden Blade, a flashlight, a combat knife and a folded note of some kind. Intrigued, he began to read. It wasn't encrypted per se but each paragraph was in a different language. English, Italian, German. Languages that weren't so widely spoken in Tunisia. Clever.

"Lila,

I wish this were under better circumstances. We suspect the Templars have sent their military agents after you. This letter is a warning.

We need not discuss what would occur should they discover the extent of our presence here, Tunis especially so. Moreover, inform Hassan that the latest shipment may be delayed; the Templars' sniffing around has spooked my contacts in Samsun. In the meantime, I will continue to assist you as best I can.

Once again I appraise your work and urge you to be careful as always.

Yours in brotherhood,

Emir."

A snake like smile formed on his face. Now this was something, names and a place. Prior to this, they were going into a maze blindfolded. Sidi Bouzid, Siliana, Thala. The Assassins could have been operating in any one of the various cities that had seen rioting. But now, he knew with reasonable certainty they had major operations in Tunis. Honestly, he would have dismissed the capital as too obvious but in hindsight it aligned perfectly with the methods of the enemy: hiding in plain sight.

* * *

He made to contact Callum immediately, only to hear the other's voice.

"You really need to hear this" they said to each other simultaneously.

Callum chuckled: "Alright, you first."

"I found a very interesting letter from an Assassin in Turkey. Apparently, they have a major operation in Tunis. I even have a name, Hassan; might be some big-time cog in their supply network." Alex explained.

"Fascinating." Callum's gaze sharpened with interest. "It seems that this isn't just some low key cell with delusions with grandeur. I found correspondences from around the world. China, North America, back home in the UK. They're organised, which makes them dangerous."

"Looks like our work might not be done when we leave Tunisia after all." Alex replied.

"I've still got finals to revise for." Callum grumbled. There were admittedly times that they forgot about their youth, only 21 and 22 respectively. Their work was a world apart from their compatriots. Most people their age seemed to be partying or protesting the student fee increases. Knowing the true nature of the world could certainly be a burden at times.

Alex looked at the state of the protest, it was beyond hope. It would likely descend into a full scale riot and the fact that armed security forces were arriving was adding fuel to a raging inferno. He sighed.

"Today's a write off. It's a clean up job from here and then we'll try and plan our next moves."

"Roger that, I'll see you soon." came Callum's reply.

* * *

Alex scanned the cityscape one last time, focused finding any remaining enemies on the rooftops. Soon enough, he found himself looking at a figure bathed in an aura of red. Only one left. As he approached, he realised it wouldn't be so straightforward.

The Assassin was noticeably restless, pacing back and forth, his eyes scanning his surrounding with a trained precision. He was also agitated, yelling into a radio. Alex could hardly blame him, most of his colleagues were dead. He was also better equipped than the others, wearing what appeared to be a military grade ballistic vest. Damn, he couldn't just shoot him either. Alex observed his enemy's surroundings, looking for an opportunity to strike. He soon noticed the man was standing on a wide balcony. The roof directly above would be a blind spot, yes. But how to approach? He was not deluded to believe that the Assassin wouldn't see him if he approached by rooftop. After another sweep of the area, he found his solution. A ladder left close to the Assassin's location. He allowed himself to smile. Climb around the back of the building, air assassinate the Assassin. Simple.

Reaching the ground, he put up his hood, blending into the crowd while keeping a constant eye on that balcony. The Assassin hadn't moved. _Good_. Taking a deliberately longer route, he eventually made his way to the back of the building. He was lucky he wasn't stopped, for the streets were now crawling with armed men as the regime sought to put down the protest violently.

He climbed up the backside of the building easily, take extra care to make as little noise as possible. As he carefully stalked across the rooftop, closer and closer, he found his heart pumping. Soon the Assassin was in directly below. Taking a breath he jumped, hidden blades out, right onto the Assassin's position.

When did he realise it had gone wrong? Was it the moment he felt nothing but the impact his feet made on the cold ground? Was it when he heard the Assassin's mirthless laugh: "Did you really think it'd be that easy?"

Whipping around, Alex moved his right arm. What was he to do? Lash out with the still activated blade or reach for his pistol. In the end it was irrelevant. His opponent was just a little bit faster. First he felt that arm being grabbed and then a sudden, powerful force connect with his stomach. Most of the air was forced out of his lungs as he struggled to not buckle under the pain. Looking around, his eyes widened at the sight of his enemy's hidden blade being activated, the metal shining in the moonlight. Out of pure instinct, he slashed wildly into the other man's side with his left blade, the chaotic arc of his arm's movement managing to catch the Assassin off-guard. He couldn't recollect precisely what happened next. A sound vaguely resembling a pin dropping, his entire line of sight covered in nothing but white. A ringing noise in his ears. Falling and landing with a thud.

* * *

After what seemed like an eternity, his eyesight slowly returned. The ringing faded. He clutched his head, trying to comprehend his surroundings. Eventually he made out the barrel of a rifle pointed at his face. The man holding wore a hostile expression.

"Who are you?" he shouted in Arabic, his tone commanding.

"Go Fuck Yourself." Alex ground out.

That earned a rifle stock slammed into his chest area.

"Do you really think you're in a position to mock me?!" The man seethed.

The slightly disoriented Templar looked beyond him. A hooded figure was observing the scene from above, getting closer with each step.

"Not yet." he retorted.

What happened next did so at a frantic pace. The hooded figure seemed to defy gravity for a brief picturesque moment, in the air one second and blades plunged into the backs of his captor's two companions. If his motion could be considered beautiful, the crunching impact and screams of the two were anything but. Alex's captor turned around, only to be greeted by a bullet to the head. Falling like a domino, he was dead.

Callum walked past the corpse, towards his brother. Pulling him up, he made sure Alex could stand.

"Are you alright? Any major injuries?" He asked, concerned.

It took a moment for the reply: "Don't think so, maybe a slight concussion."

Callum nodded: "What happened up there?"

"Fight, temporary blindness. My vision was filled with white and ears were ringing. Assassin got away, I think."

Callum put a hand on Alex's shoulder: "Come on. We best not stick around."

Alex nodded and the two of them disappeared into the shadows.


	2. Unexpected Boon

**Update (August 2019): I started writing this story last year based on a flash of inspiration with little in the way of a long term plan. Since then, I've reflected on the direction that it was going and have come up with a semi-coherent structure of how the narrative will progress. In practise, this means that a big chunk of the story will be rewritten or heavily edited; starting with this chapter.**

 **Enjoy.**

* * *

Tunis, 3 days later.

Nothing, yet again. If it wouldn't have drawn attention to himself, Alex would be sorely tempted just to pick up a rock and throw it at a random building. He could remember the initial sense of apprehension, perhaps even excitement, when he had discovered the Assassins' presence in Tunis. How fucking naive he was. It was never that easy, for all the resources Abstergo possessed, it had still taken days to find the Assassins in Sidi Bouzid and Tunis was much bigger.

Hassan. That name was all but taunting him at this point. Once again he questioned the value he had previously placed upon that letter. He was in a country where Arabic was widely spoken. _For fucks sake! Every other nonce on the street probably has that name_. And not to mention the Assassins were perfectly content in the shadows...

"How was your walk? Did you find anything?" A tired voice called over the comm, interrupting his angry thoughts.

"Nope." Alex replied, emphasising the 'p'. "You have any luck?"

"No names, nothing. We need more intel somehow, some way or it's a dead end." Callum paused for a second. "Why don't we take a break? No use banging our heads into a wall."

"Alright, I'll see you-" Thump! A barrage of noise assaulted his heightened senses, cutting his reply off. Faint yet sharp at the same time. "Hold on, there's something close by."

Focusing, interference of the general hustle and bustle was slowly but surely filtered out. The thumps continued, joined by a hum like noise. Keying in, the sound became ever clearer.

"Mmmm...Mmmm...Mmmm!" Shouting, blocked by something. _Someone, more likely._ He zeroed in on the noise, letting his senses guide him. Gradually, a path began to form in his line of sight, illuminated by a golden twinge. Alex's interest piqued, replacing the accumulated frustration of the last several hours. This was important.

He followed, methodically, as the golden path continued to form in front of him. Honestly, he had the half the mind to break into a sprint and seize whatever opportunity awaited him at it's end asap. In an ideal world, he would surely do so. This however, was not an ideal world but the capital of a nation in crisis. The veneer of normality still persisted for now, especially in a park like the one he was in: the clear skies, the cool winter breeze and the hustle of people enjoying leisure time. There were children, clad in miniature parka coats, playing tag under the perennially guarded watch of their parents. An old man, sitting on a bench, occasionally throwing food at the ever eager ducks in the pond. A couple, walking hand in hand, no doubt whispering sweet nothings to each other. It would have been idyllic if the not for the underlying tension in the air.

The path continued, out of the park and into the streets. Alex was pleasantly surprised at the distance he covered, his senses sharper than he had expected. All those sessions in the animus, it _almost_ made the cyclosporine worth it. There wasn't much traffic, another sign of the tense political situation. It had been a nightmare to get into Tunis, checkpoint after checkpoint with police seemingly everywhere, yet for once he was grateful. There was little to impede him, not to mention the quiet had been a boon for the senses. The trail took a bend, into an alley and it was quite a sight. A man bound, bloodied and gagged yet still defiant. He was struggling, continually trying to shout in spite of the pain he was in. His wounds undoubtedly the result of punishment, a theory confirmed as one of his captors rewarded him with a punch to the gut for his efforts.

"What the fuck do you want now?" The brute of a man asked the hapless prisoner as he ripped off his gag.

"Release me this instant! I'll.." His ranting was cut off by another punch, this time to the jaw. The crunch was a sickening sound to hear, followed by coughing as another few drops of blood spilled from his mouth. Meanwhile, his captors seemed to grow ever the more exasperated.

"Will this guy ever shut up?"

"We're not paid enough for this shit."

At that, the brute grabbed the bound man by the chin, his face marked by a scowl. "Any more and I will cut out your tongue. The boss doesn't need you to speak to get what he wants."

This was what his senses had guided him toward? No sense of discretion, little wonder the man had found himself in this predicament. Yet, the man continued to glow in his second sight, a shining gold. Sighing, Alex waited until the two on guard turned their backs, likely to watch whatever spectacle of torture the third planned to inflict upon his hapless victim. Crunch! The sound of 2 heads smashing against was satisfying, if a little jarring. Fortunately, whatever the brute had planned for his victim had so engrossed him that his neither said smash nor the sound of bodies falling to the ground seemed to register. It was only when he felt a choking sensation as a sleeper hold was wrapped around his neck that any resistance was attempted, slowing dissipating as his world faded into black.

Alex threw his now unconscious victim aside, joining his allies on the floor. Finding a key, he proceeded to the bound man, whose eyes filled with apprehension as he cuffs were opened. His gag thrown aside, he began to run his mouth yet again.

"Out of prison for but a few days and kidnapped by these thugs. Can I get no..." He stopped mid tirade as he noticed Alex. "Not that I'm ungrateful for the rescue but who are you?"

"Your guardian angel." Alex quipped. "You're involved in the protests?"

The man straightened, eyes narrowing. It had been an educated guess on Alex's part, the likelihood of it being correct increasing by the second.

"You've been in prison recently and you look like you're used to this." He paused as the man's mouth twisted in acknowledgment, a good sign. "Tell me, who have I saved you from? You owe me that much."

Hesitating for a moment, the man began to explain: "I was imprisoned for spreading the message and to my great fortune, the day I'm released I get bungled into an alley, beaten and my possessions stolen from me." He looked towards Alex again. _Was that a glint in his eye?_ "I do not know who these _albaltajia_ are but if you help get my stuff back, I'll be further in your debt."

* * *

"Is Tunis normally filled with so many weapons or have you majorly pissed off the wrong people?" Alex remarked as he caught site of yet another patrol. A private warehouse, on the banks of the lake of Tunis, was not a place for this sort of security. So far he had counted at least 20 guards, around half of whom were heavily armed. It did not help either that his 'friend' was relatively unfamiliar with this region of the city, meaning he was going in blind. Unsurprisingly Callum had been against this errand, deeming it a waste of time, until Eagle vision was brought up. The circumstances may have been strange, yet no less important to the mission; he was sure of it.

"As I said I do not know, they kidnapped me and took my laptop and flash drive. Are you even sure this is the right place?" The sarcasm was lost on his companion. "That drive in particular, I need-"

"Easy...Your ears would not deceive you and I doubt your gracious hosts would spin such an elaborate deception." Alex reassured. Pulling out a spare commlink, he handed it to the man. "Put this on and speak only when spoken to. Wait here for my return and do not get spotted. If things go to shit, get out and we'll meet in time at the agreed rendezvous. Understood?"

"I'll stay here and wait for your updates. Rendezvous point if things don't go to plan."

"Excellent. I'll see you on the other side."

Alex scanned the warehouse several more times as he circled it's peripheries, taking great care not to be spotted. To most observers, he disappeared into the crowds enjoying the beauty of the lake. Seen perhaps but never registered in the memory. Eventually, his senses identified patterns in the patrols. How many there were at a time, the most heavily guarded areas and the paths they took. They were never static, aiming to cover as much ground as quickly as possible. Annoying in that it necessitated an extra degree of vigilance yet the gaps they left could be advantageous if exploited correctly. He slipped in between patrols, using the shipping containers as cover to remain unseen as the guards circled back and forth, heading deeper into the warehouse site. Surprisingly, the hairs on his back did not stand as much he thought they might. One daresay he felt more relaxed than during his training, though having both a target _and_ pursuer breathing down your neck would stress anyone out. He continued the routine, hugging the corners, slinking from one container to the next until he heard chatter. Two guards, both well armed, speaking in heavily accented English.

"Most of these containers are empty, I don't see the point of this."

"We get paid so we do the job, why do you complain?"

"I'm not complaining, just wondering what we're doing here of all places. It would be better if everyone was around the storehouse in sector B."

His friend chuckled. "You want to see what's in there, don't you?"

"You can't blame me for being curious."

"Please, we all know Karim has the key and he's always in his office. They're probably more frustrated in sector B, so close yet so far."

"I suppose."

"Come on, we've stuck around too long. let's circle back around."

It was something, they had unwittingly given him a location. This was aided by the excessively large sign, a metal plate with 'B' raised high into the sky, 2 poles acting like legs for support. Perhaps they wanted to make it as easy possible for the guards on patrol. _How considerate._ Easily evading the patrols, he soon found himself deep within sector B. There was little to distinguish it at face value, more containers, unsurprisingly empty, and several buildings to his left and right. He needed a storehouse and most importantly, it's key. That meant one thing, more eavesdropping. The next several minutes were a blur, moving from group to group. Mostly small talk, mundane details or complaints about their shifts. If there was nothing at stake, Alex would have tuned out long ago.

"Just a hour left on this shift, I can taste my wife's cooking already."

"Do you think Chelsea will sign Torres? It's all over the press."

"When is Modern Warfare 3 coming out?"

"What are we doing guarding shit like this? I swear I saw a laptop being carried inside just a few hours ago." One of the guards remarked, evidently confused. Big building just behind him, to Alex's right, with a locked door. Hold on, this might go somewhere.

"Go and ask Karim yourself." His frustrated compatriot waved a finger toward another building on the left. With Alex's senses focused, it shone a healthy gold. It was unlike the others, only two storeys, more suited to a residential block than a warehouse. If this Karim was to be found, he was there.

* * *

The sky had darkened considerably by the time Alex reached the target building. The very last embers of twilight had given to the blackened embrace of dusk. To the north and the south, the cityscape was slowly illuminated; as if the lights were swarms of fireflies resting upon the structures of the urban jungle. More pragmatically, it meant the guard steadily thinned out. The atmosphere evolved from a dominant sense of mundane to one of weariness and relief, neither decisively trumping the other. Men began file in and out of buildings, stripping off fatigues, weapons and collecting paychecks. Some greeted their friends, huddling into cliques, joking and laughing. Others looked tired, presumably relieved to be going home, more than a few breathing in the welcoming sensation of cigarette smoke. Not a moment after the last of the hired guns were gone, Alex activated his left hidden blade, pivoting it clockwise. Gripping his pistol with his right, he entered with a methodical grace. The walls proved deceptively thick, for even his Eagle Vision, so he swept the floor systemically, clearing every room and checking every corner. To his relief, this proved anti-climatically dull, the rooms were devoid of life and there were no Assassins waiting around any corners.

Eventually, he reached an office. This room was different, smaller than the others. The usual clutter, furniture and files, were there though they provided little value. The computer however, shone a bright gold, flaring his senses. A few scrolls of the mouse confirmed his suspicions, this was Karim's office and the idiot hadn't logged himself off. A cruel smile painted itself onto Alex's face. _The potential, the opportunity._

"Where did I put that pen dri-," His mumbling was broken by the flushing of a toilet. _Shit._ No wonder Karim hadn't logged off, he hadn't actually left. Alex mentally chastised himself, remembering why he here. It may have been minor but no less blatant, in his haste he had lost sight of his goals. _Only the mission matters._ Scanning the room, he searched for a hiding place to little avail. _Wait, was that a wardrobe?_ It would be a tight squeeze, the accumulated clothes would not help. Still, time did not permit him the luxury of choice. Stuffing himself in, he did not allow the sense of claustrophobia to throw him off nor the uncomfortable position of his neck to annoy him. Watching, he waited for Karim to appear.

At a glance, the man was a walking contradiction. Well built with good stature, almost as tall as Alex, the profile of a leader. Yet with closer inspection, he was weary. Bags under his eyes, tight body language and slow, deliberate breathing. With a sigh, he sat down whilst rubbing his eyelids. Furthermore he seemed oblivious to any possibility of meddling, not the expected level of perception for a mercenary leader. Still, it would be harsh to blame him , stressed as he must have been. The whirring sound of a Skype call forced Alex from his judgemental thoughts.

"Are the shipments secure?" A deep, baritone voice called from the screen. Karim, for his part, sighed visibly. A sign of fatigue or an attempt to maintain composure, perhaps both?

"Hello to you to. In warehouse 1, the key's right here." He remarked, dangling the set in front of the monitor. "You needn't worry, when have your friends ever let us down?"

"My friends have all been spooked, this shipment may be the last we'll get for a while. All the worse if the Templars catch wind of this." Alex barely resisted the urge to perk up, saving his head from a painful meeting with the wardrobe's side.

"I know Hassan but, if we are to press forward, we cannot allow ourselves to be paralysed by fear." There was a lingering silence, perhaps only a few seconds, which felt like eternity.

"Fair point. Karim, there are some people that I would like you to meet. Carthaginian ruins, this time next week."

"I'll be there."

"Excellent. We work in the dark."

"To serve the light." Karim let out a tired breath, rubbing his eyes once again. Turning, he put on his coat and finished the last of his coffee, his eyes a mix of emotions. Putting the set of keys into a draw, he made for the door, seemingly unaware of any intrusive presence. Shaking his head, mumbling: "What have I gotten myself into?"

* * *

"Your laptop." Alex handed the bag to his 'friend'. "And you kept quiet, I'm pleasantly surprised."

The man snorted: "Mutually so. You were in there a while, I was half way about to compose a epic about betrayal." Alex laughed heartily in response, surprised by his own sincerity, on a mission no less.

"Let me read it when you're done." He held out a hand. "My name's Alex."

"Slim." For his stature, the other man shook his hand well. Perhaps he would prove useful after all. "Did you find anything else important in there?"

"No, run of the mill warehouse with a paranoid owner. Maybe he mistook you for a business rival." He lied, shrugging his shoulders. "Curfew will be starting soon, we shouldn't linger."


End file.
